Page 61 of To Tango, with Desire

“I think we should seal this with a kiss, don’t you? You are, after all, my fiancée. And I am allowed to kiss you. I can replay the recording if you—”

She closed the distance, her mouth firm against mine. I knew she was going for short and sweet, but I wanted to prolong this pleasure. To show her what she was missing.

Not being able to touch her would drive me insane, so it was only fair that she share some of this torture.

I kept my hands at my side, clenching them in tight fists. I wanted nothing more than to tug her sweet body against mine, but I held back, softening my approach. She arched her back and those generous breasts pressed against my chest, a whisper of an invitation.

Fuck’s sake. Not touching her was even more erotic than I expected.

I slowed down, gently toying with her mouth, building up her need so that she would never forget this moment.

Her hands were in my hair, raking the back of my neck, and that was when I deepened the kiss.

I groaned as her tongue stroked mine. I wanted to plunder and feast upon her body, but instead I gripped the chair beside me.

I kissed her to punish. I kissed her to tease. I kissed to remind her that she was mine.

In the not too distance future, this woman would be my wife. I would accept her terms, but that didn’t mean I would play fair.

Just when I felt my control was beginning to crumble, I broke away. Chest heaving, I stared at her, satisfied with what I saw. Eyes heavy, lips swollen, she was every bit as effected as I was.

Good. I wanted her to go home tonight and dream of me.

“Do you have a vibrator?”

Amira jerked back, shocked by the question.

“I’ll take that blush to mean that you do. I want you to use it tonight, after work, when you’re alone in bed and thinking of me. And when you slide it inside of you,” I murmured, enthralled by the curve of her lips. “I want you to imagine it’s my cock.”

She glared at me, lips compressed. “You’re such a jerk.”

“An engaged one, it seems. But I’ve kept our deal.” I raised my hands. “I’ve not touched you. It was only a celebration kiss, a taste of what’s to come when you’re ready to come.”

I watched in appreciation as she stormed out of my office.

Oh yes, I was going to enjoy being married to this woman.

Even if it killed me.

SIXTEEN

AMIRA

“What are you doing here, Zane?”

I answered the door the following Monday morning crankier than a toddler who skipped a nap. The past week at work had been a whirlwind and I’d planned on working through this weekend to catch up on all the outstanding tasks on my list. Instead, I’d spent every spare moment with Zane planning this wedding.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved the fact that he introduced me to his friends, and that I finally got to meet Maryam. She was every bit the fierce and friendly woman I imagined in my head.

But then he’d carted me off to meet Brenda, the wedding planner, who’d asked a million questions. What was my color scheme? Did we have a particular theme in mind? How many guests were invited . . . the list was endless. I wanted a small, intimate gathering. Zane had insisted on big, to accommodate my family and their friends. It seemed we had opposing views on everything.

And on top of all of that, we’d had a photo shoot for our press release.

It had only been a week since our official agreement, and already I was overwhelmed.

“I told you I would give you the rest of your birthday present. Apologies it was so delayed.”

I scowled, but let him in.